


The Trouble With Wanting

by Gruoch, seekrest



Series: Such Great Heights [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (they're trying to be at least), Angst with a Happy Ending, Comic book shenanigans, Established Relationship, F/M, Idiots in Love, MJ is mj, Michelle Jones is a Little Shit, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, canon nudged so far left that it doesn't even exist, coffee shop au 2 fast 2 furious, it's just us and our whims now, shamelessly ripping off plotlines from the comics and the MCU because we can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gruoch/pseuds/Gruoch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “Is it okay if he does that?”“He’s gonna give himself back problems if he keeps it up,” Gwen says, misunderstanding Michelle’s point as she walks over to close the still open window, “I keep telling him to just leap out face forward like a normal person.”“No, I mean the-- going out like that. He literally just came home,” Michelle says as Gwen turns back to her with a funny expression on her face.“That’s Peter,” Gwen says, almost sounding a little sad-- Michelle not missing the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she says, “But he’s good for it. He’ll be back. He always does.”Michelle’s not convinced but realizes yet again that she’s the one without all the information, half-paying attention when Gwen starts talking about what they’re going to eat for dinner and catching herself staring out the window towards the city.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Such Great Heights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119203
Comments: 56
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...surprise ;)

“Should we be doing this?”

Michelle realizes that she probably should have asked this question ten minutes ago, when she wasn’t naked from the waist down and straddling Peter on top of a hospital bed, but then she will admit that she has a tendency to have a little brain worms in his presence. She blames her current lapse on a mix of potent stressors—long hours at the Coffee Bean, followed by late-night rehearsals for her new show, wrapped up in worrying about Peter while he was away upstate recovering from his injuries.

“I don’t see how it’s any different from fooling around in the kitchen at the Coffee Bean,” Peter replies with a shrug, because the brain worms are apparently contagious. “And anyway, the nurses here at Avengers HQ are paid as much for their ability to be incredibly discreet as they are for their medical expertise.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “I’m not worried about someone walking in on us. I’m worried about hurting _you.”_

“I’m fine,” Peter says dismissively, his hands roaming under her t-shirt and tweaking her nipples in a way that sends a jolt straight down her core to explode between her legs. “They’re sending me home today. I got the all clear.” He grins up at her. “And I wanna celebrate by making sweet, passionate, semi-public love to my brilliant, gorgeous _girlfriend.”_

Michelle smiles, some of her concern melting away, softened by the warmth of their newfound love, though not entirely leaving her. The memories of finding Peter bleeding all over her apartment floor are still fresh and vivid in her mind.

“You almost _died_ less than a week ago,” she reminds him, her back arching involuntarily as his thumb finds her clit and starts rubbing it in tiny, slow circles.

“A mere flesh wound.”

“Okay, tough guy,” Michelle replies drolly, helplessly grinding down on him as his thumb rubs her faster. 

“You do look better,” she admits, equal parts relieved and disturbed by how quickly Peter has recovered from his terrible injuries. The awful, deep gashes he had come home with have knit themselves back together into reddish granulated tissue, and Peter has assured her that even those scars will disappear with time.

She wishes she could recover as quickly from the shock and terror of seeing him so near to death—as well as the lingering fear that it could happen again...that next time help wouldn’t come in time…

“Yeah, well, the super healing is just one of my many talents,” Peter says with another grin, pulling Michelle from her dark thoughts. “I’ve also got agility, strength..” he tugs her down by the hips, making her gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside her, “...stamina.”

“I did wonder about that,” Michelle says breathlessly, gasping again as he thrusts up into her. “I kept thinking you were some kind of mutant with superpowers, and it turns out I was right.”

She gives herself over to the building pleasure, her head thrown back as she rocks herself up and down, alternating between bouncing and then grinding on him, her movements becoming more and more urgent as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

“Ow!” Peter whimpers, halting her growing momentum.

Michelle freezes, aghast. “Oh my god! Did I hurt you?”

“Nah, I’m just messing with you,” Peter says, grinning again.

“You stupid asshole,” Michelle says, thumping him on the sternum with her fist. “I was so close. I hate you.”

“You love me,” Peter replies, still grinning as he grabs her by the hips, effortlessly lifting her up and pulling her back down. His expression softens, his eyes warm as they meet hers. “I love you.”

“Peter…” Michelle pants out, her toes curling at the delicious sensation of him dragging back and forth over all those sensitive places inside her. She reaches a hand down to touch herself, her clit a hard, throbbing bead under her fingertips, slick and hot. 

Her orgasm rolls over her like a wave. She collapses forward on top of Peter, her hair falling like a curtain over their heads. He turns his face toward the side of her neck, his breath coming on sharp, halting gasps against her damp skin and his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs as he follows her over the edge.

It takes Michelle a few moments to recover and catch her breath. She slips sideways to lie next to Peter in the narrow bed, her heart still racing from exertion.

“Fuck…” she murmurs, pushing her hair out of her face. “I love you, too. God, it feels good to say that. I love you.”

Peter huffs out a breathless little laugh, sliding an arm around her. He tucks her head under his chin, running his fingers up and down her back.

“Yeah, it does” he says, kissing the top of her head. 

Michelle lifts her head, tilting her face up to kiss his lips, soft at first, and then more deeply, feeling heat building low in her belly again.

Her hopes for a round two are immediately dashed by a knock at the door. Michelle instantly leaps out of the bed, scrambling for her pants while Peter yanks the sheet up to his chest. 

“Are you two filthy, disgusting gremlins done in there?” a voice calls through the door. “I’m double parked.”

Michelle and Peter look at each other, bursting into relieved giggles as they realize their visitor is Gwen and not some poor nurse about to get an eyeful.

“You can come in,” Peter calls back. 

The door opens very slowly and cautiously, anyway, Gwen’s dubious face appearing in the crack first to cast a sideways look into the room before the rest of her slides inside. She plants her hands on her hips, her lips pursed in a disapproving manner as she looks at the pair of them.

Peter clears his throat, smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Gwendy, you’re here early. How was the drive?”

“Long, like always,” Gwen replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you ready to go? I wanna get out of here before Stark shows up and starts accusing me of being a corporate spy just ‘cause I intern at Oscorp.”

“Merciless bullying is just how he expresses affection for the people he loves,” Peter says with a smile. “He harasses you because he adores you.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Right. If he _actually_ cared that much, he’d reserve a nice parking spot for me so when I have to drive up here to pick your dumb, reckless ass up, I wouldn’t have to keep parking in restricted areas and getting the stink eye from creepy men in black types.”

Michelle feels a weird little tug in the pit of her stomach listening to the two of them. It’s a reminder that even as close as she and Peter have become, she’s still so new to this strange, alternate world he inhabits.

“I’ll talk to him,” Peter offers peaceably, reaching over to grasp Michelle’s hand and intertwine their fingers.

“But yeah,” he continues, smiling at Michelle. “Let’s get outta here. I’m ready to go home.”

He tugs her closer, pulling her down for a kiss.

“Celebrate some more,” he murmurs against her lips. Michelle smiles, feeling another little thrill run down her spine in anticipation.

“Is this how it’s gonna be with the two of you?” Gwen asks with a smirk, while Peter continues to smile dopily at Michelle. 

“Yeah, probably,” he says, Michelle just rolling her eyes as he kisses her again— only to feel a part of her melt at how sweet it is to be around him, to have _no_ secrets anymore. 

“Well I’m happy for you,” Gwen says, Michelle looking back to her and seeing the genuine smile on her face-- even if she knows her friend well enough to see that there’s something she’s holding back.

Before Michelle gets the chance to ask what it is, the nurse they feared would come in does-- Michelle reluctantly extricating herself from Peter’s side and going over to Gwen as Peter gets officially discharged from the medbay.

There’s a lot more paperwork, or so it seems, than Michelle would’ve thought-- especially considering the familiarity that Peter appears to have with his stays here at the medbay. It takes everything within her to hold back her questions about the whole thing until they’re in the parking lot, both Peter and Gwen laughingly answering as much as they can during the entire car ride home.

“So do you have to pay for this?” She asks as they walk up the steps to their apartment, Gwen making the executive decision for Peter to stay with them _at least_ for the first night considering the pitiful excuse of an apartment that Peter had. 

“No,” Peter says with a laugh, waving his hand as they walk to the door. On instinct, Michelle wants to hover close to him-- to help him walk solely because of how awfully he looked the _last_ time he was here. But Peter seems completely fine, as he’s said over and over again as he continues, “Tony takes care of all of that.”

He makes a face as Gwen unlocks their apartment door, walking in after her as he says, “I wonder if he has to account for that, for insurance purposes.”

“It’s not like he can’t afford it,” Gwen says with a snort, Michelle laughing as she closes and locks the door behind her. 

“True but like--”

“Come on, MJ. Do you _really_ want to talk about Tony Stark right now?” Peter interjects, Michelle frowning because she doesn’t like being interrupted only to laugh when Peter’s eyebrows do a little suggestive wiggle. “I mean we can but I’m telling you now, you’re killing the mood.”

“Ew, gross you horny gremlins,” Gwen complains as Michelle laughs again, Peter bringing her into his arms and kissing her, “Can you at least wait till I’m _gone_?”

“Come on Gwendy,” Peter says against Michelle’s lips, Michelle pinching at his side-- being mindful that it’s the side that _wasn’t_ sliced into shreds as he laughs-- “I’ve missed my _girlfriend_.”

Gwen mutters something incomprehensible that makes Peter make a face, Michelle realizing a half-second later that Peter like _heard_ what was incomprehensible when she hears his phone to start to buzz.

Peter groans, letting her out of his embrace as he digs around in his pocket-- Michelle just incredulously staring at him as he thumbs through the screen.

“Who could possibly be calling you right now?”

“Not what but who,” Peter says, his face transforming into an expression that almost looks like a grimace, “Looks like Gargan came out to play.”

“Peter…” Gwen sighs, the slightest hint of exasperation as Peter starts to back up-- pointing to Gwen’s room.

“You still got the--”

“In the closet, where you chucked it the last time,” Gwen finishes off for him, Peter running towards her bedroom as Michelle just stares at the two of them-- feeling once again like she’s missed something.

“What the hell is happening here?” Michelle asks, only for Gwen to give her a grim smile as she says, “Gargan-- that’s Scorpion’s real name.”

“You’re on a first name basis with these idiots?” Michelle asks, _hearing_ how confused she sounds but being unable to stop herself as Peter hobbles into the room-- having stripped down to his boxers at lightning speed and now despite all logic, was shimmying on a Spider-Man suit onto his body. “And now you’re going _out_?”

“ _Technically,_ it’s a last name basis but good ole Mac is always good for a good time,” Peter says jokingly, Gwen laughing in a way that makes Michelle think she missed some kind of inside joke.

Neither of seem to notice Michelle’s discomfort for a second until Peter gets the suit on, fishing the mask that was in some hidden pocket Michelle hadn’t even realized existed until he looks up at Michelle-- his features softening as he walks up to her.

“I’ll be okay,” he says earnestly, bringing a hand to her chin in a gesture that’s tender even if his eyes are fierce, “Promise.”

He kisses her, quick and sweet and yet filled with enough heat that it twists something in her lower gut, almost breathless when his lips leave her as she says, “Hurry back, tiger.”

“Tiger huh?” Peter says with a grin before shoving his mask over his face, backing up towards the same window that he’d stumbled into when he was bleeding out-- sending a wave of anxiety across her chest, “I could get used to that.”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry your ass back here,” Gwen says dismissively but not unkindly, Peter laughing as he does a cute little wave before diving out of the window, Michelle’s heart leaping into her throat as he does.

It’s stupid, but there’s something profoundly terrifying-- Michelle realizes-- of what she’s signed up for, turning to Gwen and asking, “Is it okay if he does that?”

“He’s gonna give himself back problems if he keeps it up,” Gwen says, misunderstanding Michelle’s point as she walks over to close the still open window, “I keep telling him to just leap out face forward like a normal person.”

Gwen snickers, slamming the window down as she says, “Well, as normal as he can be anyway.”

“No, I mean the-- going out like that. He literally _just_ came home,” Michelle says, realizing how little she knows about what Peter gets up to and for what feels like the thousandth time today, like she’s missed something as Gwen turns back to her with a funny expression on her face.

“That’s Peter,” Gwen says, almost sounding a little sad-- Michelle not missing the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she says, “But he’s good for it. He’ll be back. He always does.”

Michelle’s not convinced but realizes yet again that she’s the one without all the information, the odd one out when it comes to knowing what it’s like to be in on Peter’s secret, half-paying attention when Gwen starts talking about what they’re going to eat for dinner and catching herself staring out the window towards the city. 

* * *

“Hey, MJ—what the hell is a London fog?” Mario asks, poking his head into the kitchen from the front of the Coffee Bean.

Michelle can hear the noise of the morning crowd drifting through the doorway, the noisy clink of coffee mugs and the rushed orders of impatient patrons, and she finds herself glad to be in the kitchen on dish washing duty where she can run through her lines for her upcoming show in relative peace.

“Isn’t Peter out there with you?” she asks, setting a mug down in the drying rack.

“He’s late again,” Mario replies, sounding a little harried.

“Shocking,” Michelle says, but without any heat. She smiles to herself a little wryly, remembering how furious Peter’s lack of punctuality had used to make her, before she knew _why_ he was late all the time.

“Start brewing some Earl Grey, and I’ll handle the rest,” she tells Mario, wiping her hands dry on a towel and straightening her apron.

Harry has kindly offered to let her cut back her hours at the Coffee Bean now that she’s landed a big part in a show and needs more time off for rehearsals, something that Michelle welcomed with equal parts relief and guilt. Betty had abruptly quit a week ago to follow her boyfriend to Chicago, which means Michelle is really Harry’s only remaining reliable employee. Mario is still too new to be left completely on his own, and Peter is...well, _Peter._ Michelle can already see the strain it’s had on Harry, and she will admit that she, too, has been a little distracted for a variety of reasons, and not as reliable as she typically is.

Michelle sighs, putting the guilt aside as she smooths her hair up into a bun and goes to grab a fresh carton of milk from the refrigerator.

When she closes the fridge door, she finds Peter standing on the other side of it, right next to her.

Michelle lets out a startled squeak, nearly dropping the carton of milk before fixing him with a glare.

“You asshole,” she scolds. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” Peter says with a grin, not sounding sorry at all. He leans forward to kiss her, a soft touch of his lips to hers at first, and then he swings her around to the other side of the fridge, pressing her back against the wall and kissing her again, more urgently this time.

Michelle forgets all about poor Mario and the London fog, looping an arm around Peter’s neck and leaning against him, her breath hitching as she feels his hands wander over her hips to cup her ass through her jeans.

“Well, good morning,” a voice dryly interrupts them. “Nice to see you two finally getting along.”

Michelle pulls back, startled, feeling heat prickle across her cheeks. Harry stands just inside the kitchen doorway with his car keys in hand and his laptop tucked under his arm, one eyebrow raised, looking faintly amused.

Peter clears his throat. “Hey, Har, how’s it going?”

“It’d be going better if Mario wasn’t alone out front about to be crucified by an angry mob of financial bros,” Harry says mildly, jiggling his keys in his hand and looking pointedly at Peter. “You’re late. Again.”

“I mean, you’re just getting here so really _you’re_ late, too,” Peter jokes.

Harry doesn’t look amused. A shadow of anger and annoyance passes over his face. “I’m late because Spider-Man was terrorizing the city again, and I was stuck in traffic while a bunch of idiots had to stop and _cheer_ for that...that _murderer.”_

Michelle feels Peter tense up beside her, and she warily glances over at him, seeing the carefully neutral expression that has slid over his face. She’s reminded suddenly that Harry doesn’t _know—_ that he’s the last person in their tight little friend group that has no idea that Peter is Spider-Man.

It occurs to her almost simultaneously that even though she’s in on the secret now, there is still so much about Peter and Spider-Man that _she_ doesn’t know, either.

Including what, exactly, happened between Spider-Man and Harry’s dead father.

“Harry,” Peter starts gently, but Harry waves him off. 

“Never mind. Let’s just get through the morning rush, right?” Harry says, offering them a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And, uh...maybe _try_ to keep things semi-professional while you’re here? I’m pretty sure groping in the kitchen violates some kind of restaurant health code.”

Michelle lets out a laugh, trying to break the still simmering tension she can feel in the air. “Yeah. Sorry. We will. I’ll go help Mario up front.”

“I can run the register,” Peter offers. “Financial bros don’t scare me. It’s the late-morning yoga moms I can’t stand.”

Harry gives a soft snort, shuddering. “Not to speak badly of our customers, but...you and me, both, Pete.”

Michelle smiles at Harry as she passes by him to the door with Peter following at her heels, reaching out to give Harry’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

Harry smiles back at her, but when Michelle glances over her shoulder as she pushes the door open, she sees that a dark, brooding look has settled on his face as he looks down at something on his phone’s screen.

Michelle frowns, feeling a faint stirring of concern in the pit of her stomach, but then Mario is frantically waving her over while a man in a dark suit glowers at him.

Michelle plasters her best “customer service smile” onto her face, taking a deep breath and banishing her doubts as she gets to work.


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe it says something to her priorities, maybe it speaks a little to her sensibilities, maybe it even speaks to the fact that maybe Michelle is just one big ole hypocrite.

But she finds that all the things that used to bug her about Peter aren’t necessarily more _charming_ , but infinitely more understandable.

Knowing that he’s a massive flake when it comes to literally _anything_ \--movie nights, dinner, shifts at the Coffee Bean-- doesn’t suddenly become any less annoying, but Michelle _gets_ it now. She gets why Ned and Gwen were so easy to forgive him because what kind of asshole is going to be upset that Peter prioritized saving a bus full of middle school kids from flying over the Brooklyn Bridge or saving a group of people from a retirement home from a gas leak over whatever plans they may have had.

Michelle wants to laugh, thinking of how shitty Peter’s personal life would’ve been growing up had he _not_ had people like Ned and Gwen around him to stick with him despite how objectively shitty he is as a friend. 

It also makes sense, Michelle thinks, why in the years she’s known him that his love life wasn’t something that was particularly stable.

Maybe stable was the wrong word to put it, Michelle-- back when Peter’s inconsiderate flakiness seemed to be his only defining trait-- had been just as baffled that he somehow kept getting dates.

After a months of having sex with Peter, and now officially being his girlfriend, Michelle thought that Peter more than made up for his flakiness in an entirely different way.

“Fuck,” Michelle cried out in ecstasy, writhing against Peter’s mouth as his tongue and his hands worked her through her third orgasm of the night. Her whole body shakes and she feels as if she’s literally having an out of body experience as he sucks on her clit, fingers still steadily curving into her until she goes limp on the bed-- sweaty and satisfied and hearing the crinkle of a condom. 

“How… how the fuck… can you do that?” Michelle pants out, completely boneless and wrecked as Peter crawls on top of her-- kissing her on the nose, on the cheek then on her lips as he takes hold of himself and runs his tip up and alongside her center.

“Do what?” Peter asks, his voice shot as he gently pushes into her-- Michelle slowly wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as Peter sighs in relief, slowly starting to thrust his hips into her. 

Michelle’s not gonna be of much use in helping him, her brain and her legs still not working completely in tandem but Peter takes hold of her leg, curving his strong hand underneath her knee as he pumps into her. 

“Do-- do that,” Michelle says unhelpfully, closing her eyes as Peter grinds into her-- his soft gasps of pleasure still stupidly turning her on even if she feels completely spent. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Peter huffs out, Michelle opening her eyes to see Peter staring down at her, a tender expression on his face even as his movements start to get more frantic, “if something feels good, I wanna do it again.”

“That’s what I mean,” Michelle replies, seeing from the strain in Peter’s eyes that he’s already close-- his mouth opening as she runs her hand to rest at the nape of his neck, “it’s like you just-- you just _know_ what’s gonna be good for me. More than-- _uh_ \-- more than any partner I’ve had.”

“You’re saying I’m the best you’ve ever had?” Peter pants out with a mischievous grin on his face, Michelle rolling her eyes and taking great pleasure in how Peter lets out a little choked gasp when her hips start to function again-- wrapping the leg Peter wasn’t using as a brace as he pistons into her around him. 

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Thought you liked my cock,” Peter says as Michelle laughs, only to gasp when Peter hits an angle just right-- throwing her head back and tightening her grip on his neck.

“Fuck right there, keep-- keep going right there,” she says only to feel Peter start to swell inside of her before he comes with a groan-- panting above her until he comes to a stop, pulling out and flopping over to the side of the bed as Michelle looks over to him. 

There was a lot that Michelle liked about Peter now, a lot that she _loved_ about him. But there was something unexplainable about how much she loved seeing him after he came, seeing the sweat building across his chest and his forehead, to see how utterly wrecked he was because of _her_.

Maybe it was ego or maybe it was just a symptom of being in love, Michelle smiling when Peter looks back over to her and says, “Sorry. Sorry, I couldn’t--”

“It’s okay, tiger,” Michelle hums, twisting her body so that her hand was resting on his chest as she curves into him, “even superheroes have limits.”

Michelle doesn’t miss the way something flashes in Peter’s eyes once then, surprised in a good way when he shifts himself to wrap his arms around her, moving her leg to bracket across his hip across the side.

“Who said anything about limits?” Peter says against her lips before kissing her again-- filthy and intoxicating as Michelle gasps into his mouth, one of Peter’s hands tweaking at her nipple before reaching down between them to play with her clit.

She knows now from experience that it doesn’t take much for Peter to be ready again but it still doesn’t cease to amaze her as she closes her eyes— feeling him start to harden already as his fingers expertly work over her.

“You want to know how I make you come?” Peter whispers against her mouth, fingers spreading her before sinking down and slowly pushing one back in as Michelle closes her eyes, “how I know where to touch you and taste you?” 

Michelle lets out a pitiful whimper as Peter begins to work two fingers into her, gripping his bicep with her free arm only to whine when Peter slips his fingers out of her— a cool rush of air as he leans back to grab another condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it on to his erection so fast that she’d tease him about it if she wasn’t so embarrassingly close already.

She inhaled sharply as he grabs hold of himself and pushes in, feeling his hands grip her hips on just the right side of painful as he starts thrusting into her.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Peter pants, Michelle caring very little now about the reasons for why Peter was so skilled in bed and more focused on putting those skills to work as she works her hips with him— limited from doing so from the position they’re in and more turned on because of it. “I can feel you, hear you, know when you’re getting close because of it.”

Michelle lets out a harsh gasp as he dives into her, her fourth orgasm just on the precipice as she feels Peter’s grip on her thigh tighten. 

“That’s it, right there,” Peter says with no small hint of smugness, Michelle being too far gone at this point as he thrusts his hips— panting hard as her fourth orgasm skims across the edge. 

Maybe Michelle should have a little more attention and focus to what exactly that means for their dating life— much less their sex life— if Peter could feel and hear everything, thinking very distantly that she should probably ask more about the full range of his powers.

But maybe it says something to her seemingly continuously shifting priorities that she doesn’t, lost to the rhythm of Peter’s hips and to the pleasure that overwhelms her— glad in more ways than one that she’d taken the risk with him all those months ago. 

* * *

“No, no, no, no, _no.”_

Michelle stops in the middle of delivering her line as the director cuts her off from his seat in the empty house. _Again_ . For the _fourth_ time, as a matter of fact. She clenches her jaw and then forces herself to relax it as she turns on the stage to face him.

The director of her show is, to put it kindly, precise and demanding. To put it not so kindly, as Michelle does frequently both silently inside her mind during rehearsals and out loud during rants to Peter and Gwen, he’s a pompous pretentious prick.

He’s also the third director the show’s hired after the first two were fired over _creative differences—_ a fact that Michelle didn’t learn about until after she’d been hired to replace the actors who’d _also_ left the show. Weeks deep into rehearsals, Michelle will admit that there are times where she wonders if maybe getting this role wasn’t the turn of good fortune she thought it was going to be.

“No,” the director says again, scowling. “What are you doing, ordering a goddamn pizza? Say the line like you _mean_ it.”

Before Michelle can say anything to defend herself, he waves a hand, irritated. “I need a cigarette after that shitshow. Let’s take five and then get back to it. Come on, people, let’s be serious here.”

Michelle grits her teeth again as she heads offstage. A few of her co-stars mill around in the back, sipping bottled water and joking with each other. Michelle ignores them. Her attempts to build a friendly rapport with her fellow actors have so far been met with cool disinterest, like they’ve already decided she’s not going to last long in this role, either.

_Maybe they’re not wrong._

Michelle slips into the blessedly unoccupied bathroom and stands at the sink. She splashes some water on her face and then looks at her reflection in the mirror.

 _Get it together, Jones,_ she tells herself. _You busted ass to be here. Make the most of it._

She takes a deep breath and heads back out to take the stage again.

The rest of the rehearsal goes slightly better, but Michelle is still feeling frustrated and exhausted as she walks home towards her apartment. She’s looking forward to sharing a glass or three of wine with Gwen, and then sharing something _else_ with Peter, a little smirk tugging up the corner of her mouth as she imagines all the ways she intends to unwind with him.

Her fantasies are interrupted by her phone buzzing in her back pocket. She pulls it out and glances at the screen. There’s a text message from Peter, as if her thoughts have conjured him up.

 _Running late. SM business. Sorry luv u,_ it reads.

Michelle lets out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging and her dark mood returning, before it’s quickly replaced by a sense of guilt. 

She’d promised Peter—promised _herself—_ that she was all in on this relationship, which means understanding that there will be times where Spider-Man and the greater good come before her and Peter. And she _does_ understand, really. 

It just doesn’t exactly make things easier.

“Oh boy...Director Arrogant Ass was at it again, wasn’t he,” Gwen says when Michelle arrives home, slamming the apartment door behind her.

“When is he not?” Michelle says drolly, dropping her purse by the door and making a beeline straight for the wine glasses.

“What did he do this time?” Gwen asks, generously inviting Michelle to rant away. But Gwen’s attention is focused on her phone, which is blowing up with a string of rapid-fire text messages.

“Who’s that?” Michelle asks curiously.

Gwen waves a hand, rolling her eyes. “Oh, it’s just Peter.”

“Peter?” Michelle says with a frown. “He texted me to say he had Spider-Man business…”

Gwen waves a hand again. “Yeah. He’s currently giving me a blow-by-blow account. Apparently he’s fighting a man on stilts, which surprisingly is _not_ the most ridiculous criminal he’s come into contact with.”

Michelle feels a funny, uncomfortable little tug in the pit of her stomach.

“Does he always do that?” she asks, suspecting she already knows the answer.

Her discomfort must be audible in her voice, because Gwen looks up from her phone and offers Michelle a reassuring smile.

“Oh, it’s just the group chat thing that Ned set up years ago in case Peter needs help or whatever, except Peter mostly just uses it to post dumb memes,” she says dismissively. “The FOS chat.”

“FOS?”

 _“Friends of Spider-Man,”_ Gwen explains with another eye roll. “Cheesy, I know, but we were dumb kids when we started it.”

“Okay. Cool,” Michelle says with forced breeziness, turning to pour herself a glass of wine and trying very hard to ignore the ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach and the sense that she might have been wrong when she imagined that there would be no more secrets between her and Peter.

* * *

“Honey, if it’s stressing you out that much…”

“I’m not gonna quit, mom,” Michelle says, pacing back and forth in her apartment. Gwen was on a date with Ned and Michelle, who was originally supposed to still be at rehearsal only for it to have been cut short because the director was having a migraine, was frustrated beyond belief. 

She’d texted Peter and got a few one word replies, her anxiety forcing her to scour the news to try and see what Spider-Man was doing before she stopped herself. 

She was never an obsessive girlfriend when she was dating a normal person. She was _not_ going to become that person just because her boyfriend was a superhero. 

It didn’t help matters that the other person she would’ve texted to hang out was Harry, someone that she’s not sure she wants to hang out with just now when it was glaringly obvious the longer that her and Peter were officially dating that there was something going on between the two of them.

Or, more accurately, that there was something missing in the story of Peter, Spider-Man and Harry’s dad-- something Michelle hasn’t had the guts or the time to talk to Peter about. 

Even if there was a small, secret part of her that wondered that even if she did, that Peter wouldn’t want to talk about it to begin with.

“I’m not saying you should quit,” her mom says on the other line, Michelle making a face as her mom continues, “what I was _going_ to say is that if this is stressing you out so much that you should do something to take your mind off things. Plan a vacation or hang out with your friends, something that’ll bring you some joy.”

“I can’t afford a vacation,” Michelle says with a tired laugh, rubbing at her eyes only to groan when she realizes she still hasn’t taken the stage makeup off-- frowning at her fingers as her mom says, “I didn’t say _go_ on vacation. I said plan it. Your father and I used to do that all the time when we were in grad school.”

Michelle snorts, bringing her hand down. “What, you used to _plan_ fancy vacations that you had zero intention of going on?”

“Why not? It’s the same concept as window shopping,” her mom says plainly, Michelle not really having a good rebuttal for that as her mom presses forward, “and if it gives you a little incentive to remind you of what you’re working towards, then it’s worth it.”

Michelle’s touched by that, her mom continuing on, “And if that new boyfriend of yours can help split the bill, well, then all the better.”

Michelle laughs at that, walking over to her bathroom so she can take off the stage makeup properly as she says, “I don’t think Peter could afford dinner in Midtown, much less the kind of vacation I need right now.”

“What _exactly_ does your boyfriend do for a living? Don’t tell me that working at that coffee shop is his only source of employment,” her mom says warningly, Michelle scrambling as she starts the water and rinses her fingers underneath it. 

“He doesn’t just do the coffee shop. Harry pays well but not _that_ well,” Michelle says, “You really think I’d date a deadbeat?” 

“It’s not as if you haven’t made some questionable choices in the past,” her mom replies, not falling for her misdirect in the slightest as she says, “Remember Mila?”

“I called you for encouragement, not to run through all my past mistakes,” Michelle says with a grimace, wondering now to herself if maybe she did have a type considering Mila was a disaster of the garden variety type-- less superhero and more super disorganized. 

“You called me because I’m your mother and I’ll tell you like it is,” she says, not unkindly. “And so you know someone always has your back.”

“Thanks mom,” Michelle says with a smile, even if her saying that tugs at something in her gut. 

She wants to be able to argue that she does have people who will have her back-- who know her and love her and encourage her.

But as she stares at her reflection in an empty apartment, the thought occurring to her that it was very possible that Gwen and Ned weren’t just on a date but were helping Peter out with Spider-Man, that maybe that wasn't as completely true as she wanted to believe. 

**Author's Note:**

> We love it when people scream at us in the comments.
> 
> Come hang out with us on tumblr: [gruoch](https://groo-ock.tumblr.com) and [seekrest](https://pursue-solitude.tumblr.com)


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